A Break from the Everyday
by enigste1
Summary: A short story told mostly from Charlie's POV. Something a little different.
1. A Visitor

**A/N:** A short story in a different format. I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter One:**

I'm sitting on my porch, gazing out over the water on a picturesque afternoon. The whitecaps tumble over themselves like litters of exuberant puppies in their eagerness to reach the shore. This place is situated at the farthest inland point of a deep cove and by the time the tide makes it this far, the whitecaps aren't so white anymore.

As I gaze out over the azure waters, lamenting the absence of my muse, I'm startled from my thoughts by a soft rapping on the porch rail. I glance up to see deep, chocolate eyes and a brilliant smile framed in artfully designed curls. "Hello," I say. "Come to visit again, have you?"

He nods once as he climbs the steps. It is then that I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue that furrow his brow and draw down the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. As he lowers himself into the only other chair and stretches out his legs, he asks, "How have you been?"

"I can't complain," I reply. I could, but it wouldn't be half as interesting as what he has to say, I'm sure. "And you?"

He sighs, leans his head back and replies, "It's been hell, this past couple of weeks." Turning his head, he asks, "Gotten any writing done lately?"

I grin wryly. "No. I think my muse wound up in Urkutsk with my rollerboard case." He chuckles softly and we both fall silent, the warm summer breeze caressing our faces. After a moment I ask, "Want to talk about it?"

He's looking at me, I can tell, but I keep my eyes closed and my face lifted to the sunlight, waiting. Finally he leans back and closes his eyes as well. "Only if you really want to hear it," he replies.

"Of course," I murmur. "I love to listen to you, Charlie."

With that, he began to speak…


	2. The Tale Unfolds

**Chapter Two:**

"You're kidding," Charlie said, his mouth agape. "A – a real vacation?"

Don masked his annoyance with a small huff of laughter. "Yeah, Charlie – a real vacation. Why does that surprise you?"

Making his way around the end of the dining room table, glass in one hand and plate in the other, Charlie lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I dunno," he replied. "Maybe because you haven't taken one in… ever?"

"That's not true," his brother protested. "I've taken time off before."

"Time off," Charlie agreed. "But a vacation?" He paused in the kitchen doorway, waiting for a response.

Don thought for a moment and then shrugged. He resumed the task of removing his tie. "Whatever," he mumbled.

Charlie grinned as he headed into the other room to drop off his dirty dishes. "So," he called back through the open doorway. "Where are you going to go?"

"Ah…" Don paused in the act of removing his jacket. "Actually, I was going to head up north – to San Francisco."

Re-entering the dining room, his brother asked, "What's in San Francisco?"

Don glanced at him over his shoulder as he hung his jacket from a peg on the wall. "I dunno," he hedged. "A bridge?"

"Don…"

Grinning, Don replied, "Okay, okay – I'm not going alone – happy?"

"Oh?" Charlie inquired. "Who are you… Liz?"

"Yeah." Don walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch heavily. "Liz. Okay?"

Charlie smiled. "Good for you, bro," he replied. His expression sobered slightly.

Don was reaching for the television remote when he noticed the change in his younger brother's demeanor. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," Charlie answered, a little too fast.

"Charlie…" Don drawled, his tone mimicking exactly that of his brother's only moments ago.

The younger man moved to one of the comfortable armchairs and sat down slowly. "I don't know," he said at last. "It's just… Larry's gone and Dad's always out for work or with…" He fought to suppress a shudder. "…Millie…" Charlie sighed. "And Amita's working now – if she's not teaching, she's preparing lectures or tutoring or…" He shrugged.

Don snorted as he leaned back on the couch and pointed the remote at the television. "Y'know, Chuck," he mused. "Sometimes I get the impression you don't know what you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said," the older man replied. "You want people to treat you like an adult, but then you turn around and start pouting whenever you're not the center of attention."

Charlie frowned. "I do not pout!"

"Do too."

"What's going on here?" Alan demanded as he opened the door. "Are you two fighting again?"

Charlie opened his mouth to respond but Don cut him off. "Charlie's pouting again."

"What for this time?" their father asked.

"_I do not pout!"_ Charlie retorted. "Geez." He got to his feet and headed upstairs.

Alan gazed after him in amusement before looking at Don. "So what happened this time?" he asked.

Don shook his head. "I told him I was going on vacation, and he got all out of sorts about it – like he wanted me to ask him to tag along or something." He sighed. "I feel like I'm twelve all over again."

Lowering himself into Charlie's recently vacated seat, Alan said, "It's to be expected, you know."

"Oh?" Don asked, flipping channels absentmindedly. "And why is that?"

Alan paused before replying. "His closest friend just left the planet, his girlfriend is occupied with her new… occupation…" Don glanced at him and he smiled in apology. "_I'm_ working – _you're_ working. He's probably lonely."

Don thought for a moment. "Okay," he conceded. "But there's no way I'm taking him instead of Liz. Kind of defeats the purpose, y'know?"

"I know," his father laughed. "And Charlie knows it too – just cut him a little slack when he starts feeling insecure, okay?"

Nodding, Don found a baseball game on television and settled back to watch.


	3. A Decision Made

**Chapter Three:**

Charlie broached the topic of vacations with Amita the next day at lunch. "So… Don's finally taken some time off," he began.

"Really?" Amita looked up from the paper she was grading. "I thought he lived at the FBI office," she joked. "Either that, or your house."

Smiling, the mathematician went on, "He's taking Liz up to San Francisco for the week. I thought, since we've got a break coming up, maybe you and I-"

"Charlie, please tell me you are not suggesting we double-date with your brother and his girlfriend for a week," she interrupted.

Charlie shook his head. "No, no – I'm not suggesting… of course I'm not suggesting that," he protested. "I just… I thought…" He shrugged. "I just thought you might like to get away for a while – with me." Looking at her with an unspoken plea in his eyes, he asked "What do you say?"

"I say…" Amita stared into his eyes for a moment, then sighed and tore her gaze away. "I'd love to, Charlie, but I just can't." She waved a hand over the stacks of papers and books in front of her. "I've got so much work to do – I can't afford to just… take off."

"That's very responsible of you, Amita," said a slightly nasal voice from behind them. Charlie's eyelids drifted shut and his face became a mask of resignation. Opening his eyes slowly, he said, "Hello, Professor Finch."

Millie Finch placed a motherly hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Now, now, Charlie – how many times do I have to tell you? It's 'Millie'. 'Professor Finch' sounds so… formal."

Mustering up a smile, Charlie bobbed his head and struggled for a sincere tone. "Millie… right… I'm sorry…"

"No problem," she replied brightly. Turning to Amita, she continued, "I couldn't help but overhear your last comment, Amita…" Amita exchanged a disbelieving look with Charlie. "…And I wanted to commend you. Not everyone would have the dedication to put aside personal time for their work." Millie pulled out a chair and sat down, still talking. "I mean, it's tempting – using the break to take off and have a little 'vacation'." She crooked her fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks. "But true devotion to your work will take you a long, long way here at CalSci."

"I've proven time and again…" Charlie began.

"Of course you have, Charlie," Millie interrupted, patting his arm. "I wasn't referring to you. You're practically a figurehead around here."

Charlie pulled his arm away, glowering.

Millie smiled at them both in turn. "Well," she said, getting to her feet again. "I've got to be going. Both of you take care now!" She started walking away and then turned. "Oh, Amita?" she called back.

Amita rolled her eyes. "Yes, Millie?"

"Since you're going to be here next week, I'll get you to give me a hand organizing the annual benefactor's luncheon. Meet me in my office first thing Monday morning, alright?" She smiled and waved. "Later!" she finished as she strode away.

Charlie hung his head. "I guess that's that," he mumbled.

Placing a gentle hand on his arm, Amita soothed, "You could always do something yourself, you know. Go on a trip, see the sights." She smiled. "It's very sweet of you to ask me to come with you, Charlie, but you don't need me to."

Smiling back, Charlie replied, "Maybe I do." He sighed. "Besides… it's more fun when you can share the experience."

Amita got up from her seat. "That's true," she said as Charlie moved to join her. "But you can have fun on your own – you don't have to have someone else around." They began walking back to the math building. "When was the last time you did something just for you, just by yourself?" she asked.

Charlie thought for a moment. "I don't recall…" His voice trailed off. At last he said, "You're right, Amita. As much as I would love to have you with me, I think I'll do something on my own – and enjoy myself."

"Great!" Amita said, genuinely pleased. "So… what are you going to do?"

"Uh…" Charlie began. "I'm not sure – but I'll think of something."


	4. Not an Ideal Outing

**Chapter Four:**

_This was a great idea, _Charlie thought as he sat staring at the view around him_. Amita was right – it is doing me good to spend some time on my own. _The gently rolling hills and patches of forest spread out before him like a picture in a book and he drew in a deep breath, tilting his face to the warm sunlight. _No smog,_ he thought. _Just pure mountain air. Larry would love this…_

He frowned as the thought entered his mind and Charlie looked up into the clear blue sky. _I hope you're having fun, my friend,_ he wished silently. _Your dream has finally come true._ He was brought back to the present by the shifting of the animal beneath him. Charlie reached down and patted the horse's neck. "Easy, girl," he murmured soothingly. "We're going." He gathered up the reins and headed down the hill.

He spent the afternoon aimlessly riding through the countryside. At around two o'clock he stopped to let his horse graze and Charlie lay in the sun-drenched grass eating the small lunch he'd brought with him. When he was through, he gathered up his things and got to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him and Charlie stumbled, almost falling down again. _Whoa,_ he thought. _What the heck brought that on?_ Shaking his head to clear it, Charlie walked slowly toward his horse and prepared to climb back into the saddle. Another bout of vertigo had him clinging desperately to the saddle horn in an attempt to remain on his feet. After a lengthy pause, Charlie pulled himself onto the horse and turned it back the way they'd come. He let the animal have her head once the ranch was in sight and Charlie could focus all of his attention on staying in his seat as the chestnut mare headed for home.

Getting back to the ranch house was a blur for Charlie. He vaguely recalled someone helping him down from his horse, someone else offering to unsaddle and groom her, and yet another someone guiding him to his room. Charlie assured them all that he would be fine after some rest – that he had, perhaps, had too much sun. He allowed himself to be led to his rented room and, after assuring his companion he'd be all right, Charlie closed the door and lay down on the bed without bothering to undress.

He woke a few hours later feeling refreshed but still unsettled. Charlie considered his options. On the one hand, he'd arranged to stay at the ranch for the entire week and was paid in full. On the other, he didn't want to stay put if the way he felt earlier was a warning for something more serious to come. Deciding at last to leave the ranch early and head for home, Charlie went to see the manager, a motherly woman in her sixties. She expressed some concern over his condition and not a little regret at seeing him leave so soon, but she agreed it was probably best that he head home. She refunded him for the remaining two days of his stay – something Charlie tried to refuse – and coaxed him into a promise to phone as soon as he was safely ensconced in Los Angeles.

Charlie loaded his things into his car, bid goodbye to his hostess and quickly climbed behind the wheel. He was beginning to feel a little unsteady and wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. As he headed down the highway toward LA, Charlie mentally berated himself for choosing a destination so far from home. _But that was the point, _his conscience reminded him. _You wanted to get away from the noise and smog of the city – to get some fresh air and clear your head._

_True,_ he agreed with the small voice. _But now it doesn't seem like it was such a good idea._ As the car drifted over the center line for the third time, the small voice said_ Forget it. You'd better pull into the next motel you see and get some more rest._ As if on cue, the next curve in the road showed him a dirty neon sign blinking 'vacancy' in the fading light. Charlie steered the car into the parking lot and forced himself to walk the ten feet into the office.

The man behind the greasy counter barely gave him a second glance as he handed Charlie the register and took his crumpled bills. He handed over a single key, told him check out was at one o'clock and then turned his attention back to the small television set he had sitting on the counter. Charlie glanced at it briefly but it was tuned to a game show of some sort and the bright colors and loud noise made him recoil. The mathematician grabbed up the room key and hurried out into the blessed dark.

His room wasn't in the first bank of the motel, but was actually one of those that made an 'L' off of the main part of the building, unseen from the road. Charlie parked his car as neatly as he could, given his concentration was waning and grabbed his bag from the back seat. He fumbled with the key for a moment before finally fitting it into the lock and stumbled across the threshold into a surprisingly clean room. _It's official,_ the small voice announced. _The night manager doesn't clean the rooms._

"Shut up," Charlie told it, unaware he'd spoken aloud. He dropped his bag beside the low dresser and headed for the bathroom. As he flipped on the light, Charlie winced. He forced one eye open and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His features were pale and drawn and his skin had a grayish cast to it. _Not good, Eppes,_ he thought miserably. He belatedly noticed, too, that the bathroom was also spotless. The chrome gleamed and the mirror shone – all adding cheerfully to his discomfort. Charlie turned away from his image and turned the taps in the bathtub on full. As the water ran, Charlie stripped off his clothing – now soaked with sweat – and climbed into the warm water. He laid his head back against the cool tile and briefly considered just letting the tub overfill. At last he sighed, leaned forward and shut off the flow before relaxing into his previous position. He closed his eyes and willed the tension in his muscles away.


	5. A Kind Gesture

**A/N:** I had originally planned to post one chapter at a time, as this seems the best method for comments on each instalment. Unfortunately, I will not be able to continue in this vein, as I must absent myself for an indeterminate amount of time. Since I abhor leaving tasks unfinished I will post all remaining chapters at once. Enjoy.

****

**Chapter Five:**

Charlie jerked awake roughly; unsure at first of what had woken him. A moment later his question was answered as he heard a timid rapping on his motel room door. "Sir?" a woman's voice called out. "Sir? It's past check out time."

Slowly getting to his feet, Charlie wrapped the blanket around him, holding it closed with one hand while he opened the door with the other. He blinked suddenly in the harsh sunlight and took an involuntary step backwards. "What…" he rasped. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "What time is it?"

"It's two o'clock," the woman replied. "I was told this room would be empty. I've come to clean it." She studied his face carefully. "You don't look so good," she observed.

Charlie shuffled sideways to lean against the doorjamb. "I don't feel so good," he replied. "I suppose you've got people waiting for this room, have you?" he asked sarcastically.

"No."

"Then… it'd be alright if I stayed?" Charlie asked.

She frowned slightly. "You gotta pay." Her tone was short.

_Probably thinks I'm hung over or something,_ Charlie thought. Aloud, he said, "Fine – let me grab my wallet." He turned away from the door and headed over to the pile of clothing he'd deposited on the chair the night before. Rummaging through his pockets, Charlie pulled out his wallet and handed her a couple of bills. "Take that and make it for three nights, will you?" he asked. "And you can tell what's-his-name I know what that comes to – with tax."

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, taking the money. "You want anything else?" Charlie stared at her, puzzled. "Food or something," she added at last. "You hungry?"

Shaking his head, Charlie replied, "No thanks. I don't think I'd better." The woman nodded once and turned away. Charlie closed the door softly and made his way back to the bed, where he took his time lying down again. Every muscle in his body ached and his vision was beginning to blur by the time he put his head on the pillow. Memories of the night before washed over him and he sighed, remembering how close he'd come to making a huge mistake in judgment.

He'd been lying in the warm water for quite some time. The muscles in his back began to loosen and he sank down slightly, desiring the same effect for his aching shoulders. Charlie immersed his arms, bending his knees to settle deeper into the water. Finally beginning to feel some relief, Charlie sank right down in the tub until he was lying on his back with just his face out of the water and closed his eyes.

He came to a moment later, coughing and sputtering as he thrashed his way to a sitting position. At some point after he drifted off Charlie had submerged his face under the surface of the water and only the abrupt cutting off of his air drove him to awareness. He clambered out of the bathtub, panicked, and sat panting and coughing on the floor of the bathroom, aghast at what had almost become his fate.

It was several long minutes before the mathematician felt strong enough to push himself off of the floor and grab a towel. Charlie scooped up his discarded clothing and stumbled into the bedroom, dropping the garments on the chair before collapsing into bed. Once his heart rate and breathing slowed, Charlie made a mental note of all the new aches and pains that wracked his body before drifting off to sleep.

A few minutes later the woman returned with Charlie's chenge. When he answered the door – this time wearing jeans and a t-shirt, she asked, "You're not hung over, are you?"

Charlie shook his head slowly, willing the dizziness it caused at bay. "No," he replied softly. "I'm… sick."

She stepped back. "Sick? What kind of sick?"

"I don't know," Charlie said. "Probably some kind of 'flu."

Visibly relaxing, the woman said, "Oh. Well. That's… you sure you don't want anything? Soup, maybe?"

"No thanks," he whispered. "I couldn't eat right now." He glanced around the still tidy motel room. "You said you were coming to clean?" he asked.

"Yeah." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Earl – that's my husband… you would have met him last night – he takes care of the front desk and I clean the rooms." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

Charlie leaned his head against the doorframe. "I just… wanted to say…" He sagged slightly as his strength began to ebb. "Thanks… you do a good job."

She stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "Whoa, there, mister. You look like you'd better lie down." Helping him onto the bed, she added, "Thanks for saying that."

"Just…" Charlie sighed. "You're welcome."

She studied him for a moment. "You should eat something," she announced finally. "I'll be back in a bit." Turning on her heel, she strode from the room.

Charlie didn't feel like he'd slept at all, but the light in his room had definitely dimmed by the time he opened his eyes to find the woman back in his room, setting a tray on the small table by the window. "Hey, mister?" she called. "I brought you something to eat."

Groaning softly, Charlie pushed himself to a sitting position on the bed. "Charlie," he murmured.

"Pardon?"

"My name… Charlie," he repeated.

"Oh," she said, nodding. "Right. I'm Annie."

Charlie cleared his throat. "Pleased to meet you, Annie." Looking at the tray, he added, "You didn't have to do that."

Studying him carefully, Annie said, "That's a matter of opinion. You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks."

She colored slightly. Ducking her head, Annie replied, "Sorry. Earl says I speak out too much."

"Earl…" Charlie barely suppressed a snort.

"Never mind," she retorted hotly. "Earl may not look like much, but he's not like some." She began to count off her fingers. "He's never raised his voice to me, never hit me, never made me go without." Giving Charlie a pointed look, she went on, "And he's honest. You got all your change back proper, right?"

Waving his hand limply, Charlie said, "You're right. Sorry." He glanced at the tray again. "What is that?"

Annie looked down and then back up at Charlie. "Vegetable broth," she announced. "No fat to upset your stomach. And crackers. Without salt. Apple juice. Not that store stuff, either. Made it myself."

The rapid-fire sentences were hammering on Charlie's aching head. "Thank you very much," he said. "But I don't suppose you brought any aspirin?"

Reaching into a pocket of her ragged sweater, Annie produced a small bottle. "Right here," she answered brightly. She set the bottle on the table and turned to Charlie. "You need any help getting up?"

"I think… I can manage, thanks," Charlie replied. Gathering his strength, he slowly pushed himself off of the mattress and shuffled over to the table. He pulled up the single chair and sat heavily. "Smells good," he said, surprised.

"You don't have to eat it all," Annie said. "But you should eat some."

"I'll give it a try." Charlie looked up to where she was watching him expectantly. "You're going to watch?" he asked.

Annie shrugged. "I want to see you give it a shot, anyway."

Charlie picked up the spoon and ladled up a bit of the broth. Taking a small sip, he said, "This tastes good."

"Like I said," she replied, heading for the door. "No fat – should sit okay." Annie paused in the open doorway. "Maybe I should come check on you later?"

"You don't have to…"

She shrugged again. "Gotta come get the tray anyhow. Might as well do it tonight."

Charlie smiled. "All right then. See you later." The door closed softly. Letting out a sigh of relief, Charlie leaned back in his chair and surveyed the tray. The bowl of broth sat on a chipped plate, ringed by crackers. A small glass of cloudy apple juice stood at one corner, while the other was occupied by the aspirin bottle. Charlie reached for it numbly. Shaking out two pills, he downed them with a sip of the juice. _That's good,_ Charlie thought, licking his lips. _I wonder if I can talk Dad into making apple juice…_

_Dad. Oh, shoot!_ Charlie clumsily got out of his chair and headed for his discarded jacket. A quick search of his pockets produced his cell phone and he flipped it open. _Dead. Wonderful. Now what?_ Charlie grabbed his bag, setting it on the bed and zipping it open. Hastily rummaging through its contents, he sighed. _Must have left the charger at the ranch,_ he thought. _No way to charge it now._ _Unless…_

He headed for the door at a slow shuffle. All the extra energy he was expending was beginning to take its toll. Charlie unlocked his car and searched the glove compartment. _Damn!_ Thinking back, he realized he'd taken the charger out when he cleaned out his vehicle before his trip and forgotten to put it back. _And I thought Larry was absentminded…_

Thoughts of his friend caused a pang of longing and Charlie wished – not for the first time – that the six months Larry would be absent would go by faster. Shaking his head wistfully, Charlie relocked the car's doors and went back inside.

He tried a few of the crackers and, when his stomach didn't respond, Charlie set to work on eating as much of the broth as he could. It was slow going, though, as every swallow seemed to sap more of his strength. Finally giving it up as too much work, Charlie picked up a handful of the crackers and the glass of juice and shuffled over to the bed. He set them down on the bedside table and eased his aching body onto the mattress. _I'll have them in a minute,_ he thought. _I just need to rest first…_

When he opened his eyes next, Charlie flinched at the brilliant shaft of sunlight that cut through the small gap in the curtains. His eyelids snapped shut almost immediately. _Not good,_ he chastised silently. _Have to try that again in a minute._ He vaguely registered the fact that he was covered up – _Annie must have pulled the blanket over me_ – and wondered if she'd taken the bottle when she left. Opening one eye a fraction, he looked at the bedside table.

_Thank god,_ he breathed. The bottle was still where he'd left it, along with the small glass of juice and… _a pitcher?_ Groaning softly as his body protested, Charlie rolled himself up on one elbow and reached for the pitcher. A quick peek inside told him it was filled to the top with ice. _Never mind,_ Charlie thought. _Thank Annie._

Feeling as though he might as well get up since he was halfway there already, Charlie slowly sat up, holding his head in one hand in case it fell off. _Can't be too careful…_ He glanced at the table, noting absently that the tray was gone. _Of course it is,_ he thought. _She would have taken it with her._

Looking at the bedside table again, Charlie was disappointed to find the crackers missing. _I wonder why she took those?_ A sudden tapping at the door startled him out of his musings. "Who is it?" he called.

"It's me again."

"The door's unlocked," Charlie replied. In an undertone he added, "I think." The question was put to rest when the door opened and Annie walked in, carrying another tray.

She smiled. "Feel better?"

Nodding slightly, Charlie reached for the aspirin. "A bit, thanks," he mumbled, downing two of the pills and chasing them with juice. "Where'd the crackers go?"

"Can't leave 'em here," Annie replied. "Attracts mice. Filthy creatures." She set the tray down. "This time it's oatmeal," she said. "And a bit of honey."

"Home grown?" Charlie asked, half-jokingly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Now don't get sassy," Annie retorted. "I'm not going out and pestering no bees for their hard work. That's someone else's bag." When Charlie didn't move, she sat in the room's only chair. "You sure you're feeling better?" she asked. "You still don't look too good."

"I'm sure." Charlie gestured to the pitcher of ice. "Thanks for that."

"You can add water if you like," Annie answered. "But the ice'll be melted in a couple of hours anyway."

Charlie nodded again. "I'll leave it for now." He cast a wary glance at the tray. "Oatmeal?"

Annie got to her feet again. "You didn't get sick, did you?" Charlie shook his head. "Then you can probably eat it. It's mild."

"Bland is more like it."

"I take it you're one of those pampered city kids that never liked oatmeal?" she asked scathingly.

Charlie grinned. "Pancakes," he replied. "Oatmeal was okay – I didn't like pancakes."

"Huh." She turned toward the door. "Pampered, just like I figured."

"Not pampered," Charlie protested. "I just… didn't like them that much. My brother…" His words trailed off as a thought occurred to him. "Is there a phone somewhere around here I could use?" he asked.

Annie nodded once. "The front desk – oh." She frowned. "The line's out, though. Went out last Tuesday night when we had that big storm blow through here." Shrugging, she added, "Phone company hasn't seen fit to come out and fix it yet."

"Damn."

"You got someone you need to call?"

Charlie smiled at her. "Yeah. I'm thinking my dad might be a little worried about me." He gestured to his jacket. "I've got my cell phone, but the battery's dead."

Annie opened the door. "Doesn't matter," she said. "No cell service out here anyway. Can't count how many times I've heard city folks complain about that."

Biting back a growl of frustration, Charlie asked, "Is there another place where I can make a call?"

"Just the dude ranch a few miles back."

"More like a few hours," Charlie grumbled. "I know. I came from there."

Annie nodded. "I figured." She gestured at the tray. "You should try eating some of that – it'll do you good." She went out, closing the door behind her.

Charlie thought about it for a moment, then lay back down on the bed. Within minutes he was fast asleep.


	6. The Unexpected Turn

**Chapter Six:**

Charlie opened his eyes slowly. It was dark – too dark to be nighttime in his motel room. _Where am I?_ he thought. His brain felt disjointed, as though something was preventing him from gathering his thoughts together. Instead, he sorted through the jumbled mess his senses were providing him about his surroundings. _Vibration. Constant, and… OW!_ Charlie let out a muffled cry as his body was jounced hard enough for him to hit his head on something solid. He tried to rub the spot where it had struck, shocked when his arms wouldn't obey. _Couldn't,_ he corrected mentally. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, Charlie's hands were bound behind his back. _Oh hell. What's happened now?_

A few more minutes of observation and Charlie concluded he was in a small space – a box or the trunk of a car – being transported somewhere. His legs were also bound and there was a strip of something that felt like tape over his mouth. Charlie prodded the material with the tip of his tongue, toying with the idea of working it off. _Later,_ he thought. _Wait until I find out what's going on and where I'm being taken._

His sick body was protesting loudly the unnatural position he was in, not to mention the fact that he needed to visit a men's room. Reviewing equations and algorithms in his head only provided a momentary distraction and Charlie soon found his thoughts straying to one thing: _Please let them stop soon._

Another ten minutes and his wish was granted. The vibration stopped and Charlie could feel the container he was in being lifted and then carried a short distance. _Not a car trunk, then._ He was set roughly down and Charlie could barely make out the sound of people talking. He strained to listen, but was unable to make out the conversation. The tone was clear, though – someone was not happy. He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard footsteps approach. "After all that," a man was saying. "You'd better have grabbed the right guy." The top to Charlie's prison was removed suddenly and Charlie flinched. "Oh, for…" the voice exploded. "Can't you two get _anything_ right? This isn't him!"

Charlie opened his eyes and looked up. Two men were standing nearby, one looking furious while the other stood by silently. _Wonder who they were looking for?_ Charlie mused. His thoughts strayed to Annie and her husband Earl. _Oh god… I hope they didn't hurt them…_

The first man was speaking again. "How in the world did you manage to screw this up?" he demanded. "I gave you perfectly clear instructions, I thought. Only a monkey wouldn't have understood them."

"You did, Boss," the second man replied. "But he disappeared. We couldn't find him. Looked all over the place."

"And just who the hell is _this,_ then?" The first man gestured at Charlie.

The second man smirked slightly. "His brother."

x-x-x-x-x

Charlie looked up from the cot in his small cell. "What… what day is it?" he asked the man standing nearby.

"Shut up."

It was the second time the mathematician had tried asking that question since the tape was removed from his mouth. After he'd been unceremoniously dragged from the wooden crate he'd been transported in, his captors had half-walked, half-dragged him down a short corridor to a dimly-lit room with concrete walls and a cell in one corner constructed of what looked like steel rebar.

They'd cut the tape on his wrists and ankles, opened the cell door and tossed him to the floor, slamming the makeshift door shut and fastening it with a length of chain and a padlock. From his vantage point, Charlie could see the rebar had been sunk directly into the concrete floor. The coolness under his cheek led Charlie to deduce that the cell hadn't been there long. _Probably made it especially for Don,_ he thought wryly. _Have to make sure I let him know that._

He took a few minutes to gather his strength before pushing himself off of the floor and stumbling toward the rude camp cot in the corner. Charlie sat down heavily and then immediately resolved not to do it again. The springs were worn and the metal framing bit into the backs of his thighs harshly.

The cell contained only the cot and a metal bucket for personal use. Every so often another man would enter the room, tell Charlie to stay back and enter the cell, taking out the bucket and leaving a clean one. They had yet to offer him food or water and Charlie could feel the lack of sustenance taking its toll on his already weakened body. _Must be a couple of days,_ he thought. There were no windows in the room and Charlie had removed his watch when he'd taken his bath at the motel. _If I was there two days,_ he mused, _and I've been here for approximately two days, then… _He fought to control the grin that threatened to appear on his face. _It's Monday – someone will be looking for me by now._ The realization buoyed his spirits and Charlie relaxed a bit, drifting into semi-slumber.

x-x-x-x-x

He awoke to a loud commotion outside. Charlie blinked in confusion. Sound ordinarily didn't enter the concrete-walled room and it took a moment for him to realize the door had been left open and the man standing guard… wasn't. Charlie toyed with the idea of sitting up for a moment, then discarded it. his body was too weak to make the attempt. Should have at least tried the oatmeal, he thought despondently. At least that would have been something.

The noise outside grew louder, and Charlie thought for a moment that one of the raised voices sounded familiar. Don? He opened his mouth to call to his brother, but no sound came out. Don? he thought wearily. Bring a guy some water, will you? When you're done… whatever you're doing.

Charlie's wandering attention was drawn to a figure in the doorway. He blinked again to clear his vision and breathed a sigh of relief. Not Don… Colby.

"He's in here!" the agent shouted, running toward the makeshift cell. "Charlie?" He grabbed the padlock and pulled at it futilely. "Someone bring bolt cutters!"

Don hurried in, fumbling with something in his hands. "Better," he said shortly. "Keys." He quickly opened the lock and rushed to kneel at Charlie's side. "Hey, buddy," he said softly.

"Don?" The word came out as a whisper.

"You bet." The agent stripped off a black glove and laid his hand against Charlie's forehead. "My god," he said. "You're burning up! Someone get the paramedics in here!" he called over his shoulder.

"Don't… shout."

Don turned to him, immediately contrite. "I'm sorry buddy," he said in a quieter tone. "You've got a fever…"

"Headache," Charlie corrected. "Water?"

"In a sec, bro," Don replied. He stood and moved to one side as two men entered the cell carrying a gurney. "Let them check you out first, okay?"

Charlie nodded feebly. "…'Kay."

The two medics quickly but thoroughly checked Charlie over and then loaded him onto the gurney. "We'll take him to Glendale Memorial," one of them told Don. "It's closest."

Don nodded and then moved to Charlie's side. "I'll be right behind you all the way, okay buddy?" he asked.

Nodding, Charlie allowed his eyes to drift shut. "…Better be."


	7. Our Story Ends

**Chapter Seven:**

The only sound was the rushing of the waves and the rustling of the wind in the trees. "So," I say finally. "What happened after that?"

"Hmm?" He turns his head and looks at me. "Oh. Well… I spent a couple of days in the hospital being treated for dehydration." He leans his head back against the chair and closes his eyes. "Pumped me full of antibiotics, too," he adds.

"What was wrong with you?"

He shakes his head, eyes still closed. "The 'flu. It kind of got out of hand, though, but I'm over it now."

I shade my eyes with one hand as I look at him. "That's it?" I ask. "What about the bad guys? What about Annie and Earl – what happened to them?"

Sighing heavily he replies, "Annie came back later that day and saw that I was gone. My things were still there, so she took my cell phone to Earl." He sat up a bit straighter, staring out over the water. "She talked him into going back up to the ranch. The woman who runs it called my dad, who called Don."

"It only took two days to find you?" I ask. "That's hard to believe."

"Well," he drawled. "It turns out that particular stretch of highway isn't used very often. It only took Don and his team a few hours to find out there'd only been three or four vehicles passing by that day – a minivan full of kids, two pickup trucks that 'looked familiar'…" He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "And a full-sized cargo van." He leans back again, closing his eyes. "They followed the direction the van was seen heading in, picked up some camera footage from a roadside gas station that showed the van turning south…" He shrugs. "The rest was old-fashioned detective work, I suppose," he finishes lamely. "I didn't really ask."

I do a quick mental calculation. "But Charlie," I say at last. "As near as I can figure, you were gone for eight days. What happened to the 'couple of weeks' you were talking about?" I turn to face him. "I would imagine you went home, but… forgive me for being impolite. You look like you just got out of the hospital yesterday."

"I know," he sighs. "But I've had to endure a week of my father hovering around me, acting like I'm going to disappear any second. And the arguments he's been having with Don…" He shudders delicately.

"What did they want him for?"

He shakes his head again. "Two-bit crooks," he answers shortly. "They thought they could make the FBI stop investigating their operation if they kidnapped the lead agent."

I frown. "That's just… ridiculous."

"I know."

Silence descends again, but this time it's comfortable – relaxed. I sit and think about what he's told me as I watch the sun dip toward the horizon, the sky changing color as it sinks. At last I turn back to him. "Time to go inside," I say. No reply. "Charlie?"

He's asleep, his head lolling onto his left shoulder. I smile slightly and get up, going inside for a blanket. As I spread it over him he murmurs softly and shifts in his chair. It's warm out tonight and the breeze is light. Knowing him, he won't sleep for long.

As I reenter the house I head for my office, grabbing the cordless phone en route. I take the address book from my desk drawer and thumb through the pages until I find what I'm looking for. I dial and then settle back in my chair, waiting for the call to be answered. "Mr. Eppes?" I say. "It's me again. I just wanted to let you know Charlie's here." A mixture of relief and exasperation can be heard in the older man's tone. "He's fine. He just… We were talking and he dozed off." I listen for a moment. "Well, when he wakes up I'll send him along. I just didn't want you to worry."

We exchange pleasantries and disconnect and I head back out into the twilight. Charlie's stirring now.

"I fell asleep?"

I nod. "Don't worry – I called your father and told him you'd be a bit late getting home."

He throws off the blanket and climbs groggily to his feet. "I'll just… use the facilities and then I'd better get going."

"Top of the stairs, first door on the right." I watch him hurry into the house, amused. _Oh, Charlie,_ I think fondly. _If you thought this last week was bad… just wait until you get home._


End file.
